


Keeping Me Steady

by windfallswest



Series: Or I Could Go to Australia [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 09:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13143639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windfallswest/pseuds/windfallswest
Summary: Christmas will find you, even in Australia.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the holidays, here is a sneak peek at the sequel to _L'ombre de ton ombre_ , which is a Christmas story but isn't ready yet because I've been focussing more on Christmas knitting than Christmas writing. 
> 
> I'd also like to say that none of this started out as a song!fic; _Ne me quitte pas_ just came up on my shuffle when I was about half done with OTO, and then Amanda Palmer jumped on the bandwagon.

December was the height of summer in Australia. Sydney was unbelievably humid after the desiccating heat of the red sand desert, but the rain was wonderful. Credence removed the light summer hat he'd worn for most of the past year and tipped his head back, letting the fat drops splatter against his closed eyelids and dry lips. 

Without having to look, he knew Graves had stopped too and was standing patiently by his side, waiting for him. His own hat was no doubt still in place, but neither of them had an umbrella. Rain was such a rarity, almost unheard during the long months they'd spent in Australia's desert Outback, despite the banks of clouds that occasionally rolled by overhead.

Gentle fingers brushed at a runnel of water trickling down Credence's jawline, and his heart tightened in his chest. Graves touched him like no one else ever had. Moreover, he didn't seem to care whether any of the people hurrying through the downpour past Ollie's shop noticed a minor impropriety. 

"Percy." Credence opened his eyes and held Graves' gaze for a long moment. He had a sudden impulse to find out how the rain tasted on Graves' lips, but his own propriety held him back. 

Here in the streets of Sydney, no one knew what they were. They walked among ordinary people who knew nothing about magic and would never guess that the two well-dressed men strolling along the sidewalk like it was sunshine pouring down on them and not rain were wizards, or that their finely-cut jackets concealed wands in secret inner pockets. 

Sydney was so like New York (at least in comparison to the wild and alien desert) that Credence couldn't help but be aware of how much he'd changed. His new life had altered everything from his posture to his shoes. If people's eyes skated past him, it was because he blended into the crowd, not the snubbing aversion he'd inspired pushing hand-copied religious bills at indifferent passers-by. Even in a lavishly tailored suit, he was overshadowed by the more striking and confident Graves. Credence preferred it that way. He was more than happy to trail along unnoticed, his real, secret life unguessed at.

Because while he _looked_ different now and the fine clothes had taken getting used to, the real changes had taken place inside of him. The most important one had happened in the instant he'd turned on Grindelwald, or Grindelwald had turned on him. It had been a long, awful moment when he'd come face to face with the horrible anger and power inside himself. 

That anger was still there. It was a weight in his heart, on bad days a churning in his belly and a tension at the base of his skull that made him want to hunch his neck and curl around it until he was so dense he exploded outwards. But most days he could stand tall. The darkness wasn't the only thing inside him anymore. He had learned kindness and a type of magic he could control. He had tasted the hot, scouring desert sandstorms from the inside. Even now, the feeling of Graves' hands shivered on his skin. He had learned that he was stronger than the ugly snarl of fear and anger that lodged in his chest, strong enough to love.

Strong enough to survive.

They had come into the city today from their camp far out in the unmapped desert at the heart of the continent to pick up supplies for the next month. This was the third time Credence had come along on the trip. Usually, they visited a few shops in the morning, gathering food staples and potions ingredients for Credence's continuing lessons. Graves had used to hurry back after eating lunch with Ollie and Sanna's family; but now Credence was coming with him, they'd started spending the afternoons exploring the city, and especially Sydney's magical library. Graves sniffed a little and said it wasn't a patch on the ones in New York, but Credence thought it was more than wonderful enough for him.

Today, though, it wasn't the library Credence was looking forward to. Last time they'd visited the city, Graves had given him a wallet full of strange money as well as a purse full of even stranger coins. It had made Credence very uncomfortable, and they'd had a fight about it. Graves had said that if Credence was going to share his bed, he was going to share everything, and they weren't so short on money that he had to dole it out by the sprink. 

Credence had, eventually, faced up to the fact that money was the least of what Graves had given him. Refusing it wouldn't balance out all the other things Graves did, things Credence couldn't refuse and selfishly didn't want to.

Credence knew what Graves had sacrificed to bring him here, to keep him safe and teach him. His old life, his position, his friends, his family, as well as his own chance for revenge against the dark wizard Grindelwald who had captured, tortured, and impersonated him. Credence didn't like to think about it, because he couldn't imagine how he could deserve that kind of utter devotion from such a man, and a dreadful guilt still twisted in his stomach sometimes. He couldn't imagine what Graves could ever see in him to make it all worth it, but he had never seemed resentful. More than teach Credence magic, which was everything he wanted in the world, he had comforted Credence, and for some reason Credence would never understand, he'd taken him into his broken and battered heart. 

Credence gave back what he could, but it was always little things. All he had was himself, which didn't seem like very much. But Christmas was coming up, and Credence had thought of a use for part of the ridiculous sum of money Graves had pressed on him, if only he could get a moment on his own at one of the shops they were going to visit today. 

He was nervous and excited. The rain soaking his hair and collar was a refreshing novelty, not something to hide from. Credence could remember how storms in New York had sent him scurrying for cover, afraid of ruining his clothes and of how soaking would turn his stack of pamphlets into a dangerous, pulpy mess. But today, it was easy to set that aside.

They had only gone a block from Ollie's when a voice cut across the noise of splashing footsteps and rattle and rain-slick hiss of a passing trolley. "Percy!"

It was a woman's voice. Not Ollie's peculiar accent; but whoever it was knew Graves' name, and that couldn't be good. Was it someone from MACUSA, catching up with them at last? Graves knew witches and wizards from all over the world. Maybe it was just a chance acquaintance. Maybe—

Graves turned in the direction the call had come from. Standing shoulder to shoulder, Credence turned with him. He didn't reach for Graves' hand, although he wanted to. Instead, he drew on Graves' steadiness to bolster his own confidence, straightening his spine despite mounting pressures inside and out. 

Two, it was two women. They were cutting across the crowd towards Graves and Credence, a pair of umbrellas sheltering them from the rain. Neither was young; one had auburn hair shot through with grey, and there were glints of silver in her companion's short, neat crop of black hair where it peeked out from under her modish hat. They weren't dressed alike, but they looked alike, from the set of their equally determined jaws to the brisk stride that was rapidly closing the distance between themselves and where Credence stood next to Graves.

"Oh, Proctor," Graves muttered.

"What is it? Who are they?" 

"I've told you about my sisters, right?" Graves said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, so this is taking longer than originally anticipated, but here is the second chapter. There is also a bit added on to the end of Chapter One. 
> 
> I promise this isn't going to turn into a one-chapter-a-year thing (the goal is to finish over the holidays; I have a lot already written, but a few scenes left to go). Anyway, Merry Nonspecific Festive Season!

Credence's eyes widened, and it all seemed to fall into place. They really _could_ be. The cheekbones, the penetrating eyes. Credence stared at them in a completely different kind of apprehension now. Both Graves' surviving sisters were aurors. 

The older one would be Innogen, whose onetime partner was now the President of the Magical Congress of the United States. Graves had talked about his youngest sister, Celandine, like she was some sort of rebel; but to Credence's eye she was the more conservative of the two. While her hair was cut startlingly short, the ends barely visible under her cloche, the hat itself was navy blue felt with little embellishment, and the skirt and jacket she wore were a light grey tweed—neat and obviously expensive, but not showy.

Her sister, by contrast, was decked out in some kind of baggy jumper under a light coat, both vividly colourful. The silky green material brought out a flash of hazel in her eyes. Its neckline plunged over a slip embellished with seed pearls and tiny beads. She wore more jewellery; even her umbrella was decorated. She didn't look like a flapper, but she did look like a person ma would have forbidden Credence to talk to. The voice in his head pointing that out was quieter than it had used to be, but Credence wasn't sure it would ever go away for good.

"I wasn't expecting you," Graves greeted his sisters.

"Really?" Innogen asked.

Graves made a throwaway gesture. "I figured you'd have shown up a while ago if you were coming after me."

"We decided you could use some time off, since you never take any. And the political furore needed time to die down," Celandine explained.

"Now we see what's been keeping you so long." Innogen looked Credence up and down critically, making it obvious what she meant. Point made, she dropped him from her attention. "By all accounts, you needed a break, or we _would_ have come after you sooner; but you've had more than enough time."

"We're going to have a conversation about you taking on the Obscurial on your own, by the way," Celandine added. "That thing could have killed you before it self-destructed."

Credence felt his back go stiff. Graves' expression had settled into the one he shared with Asperity. His hand came up to rest on Credence's damp jacket at the dip of his spine.

"Sisters, allow me to introduce Mister Credence Barebone. Credence, my sisters, Innogen Graves and Celandine Sabry. They usually," the look Graves directed at them held a definite rebuke, "have better manners than this. Slightly."

The hissing and splashing of the wet streets was loud in the sudden halt in the conversation. Both women were giving Credence their full attention now, trying to match him with the descriptions of the Obscurial they'd been given. It was so close underneath his skin he was surprised they couldn't see it. But Credence still had control. He knew when it slipped. There was a danger of it, but it hadn't happened yet.

Graceful, manicured feminine hands reached for wands but did not quite draw. Uneasily, it occurred to Credence to wonder whether they might know the same kind of wordless, wandless magic that Graves sometimes performed.

Stubbornly ignoring his own reaction as well as theirs, Credence stuck out his hand. "Pleased to meet you both." 

Innogen's eyes locked with his then instead of assessing him like an inanimate object—well, like a probably-rabid dog. Credence held himself steady by force of will, refusing to falter.

The incisive force of Innogen's gaze intensified. Not breaking eye-contact, she clasped Credence's hand, shaking it decisively. Then she turned back to Graves. "Why are you always so self-destructive in your love life, Percy?"


End file.
